The World That Never Was
by Iris Luna
Summary: Draco Malfoy knows that this world is wrong. Harry Potter's dead, Voldemort's won, and it was all his fault. But can he change the past to win back the future, or is this darkened world all that ever was? DM/HP, RW/HG; AU after Gringotts. ABANDONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!
1. Prologue: A Dark and Stormy Night

A/N: Hello! Welcome to my very first Drarry fan-fic. I'll try not to make it to dark, despite most of it being set in a war, and I'll either give it a happy ending or an uplifting epilogue. As you should have gathered from the summary, this story is about Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter being, eventually, together, in the 'romantic' sense of the word. Basically, if you don't want to read about that, go and read something else. As for the rating, it is currently set at 'T', but I may put it up later on if the language or content gets too violent or dark. There will be no explicit 'bedroom scenes' in this story, simply because the characters are going to be spending most of it at war, and therefore wouldn't actually have time anyway. All that said, I'd better let you get on with reading the story. In case you didn't understand from the chapter title, this is a prologue, and so will be slightly confusing. Don't panic, all will become clear.

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><p>The wind shrieked through the barren trees, sending the dead leaves on the ground spiralling up into the air, as the rain poured mercilessly down through the roof of the wrecked church, and bounced off of the gravestones and oppressive granite tombs, backlit by the occasional fork of lightning. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, but any reply was lost in a rumble of thunder. The heavy wrought-iron gates screeched as then swung in the gale, and water poured from the broken guttering down onto the path, flooding the already sodden wilderness beyond.<p>

It was as the thunder gave another great booming rumble that a figure could be seen approaching the bleak place, silhouetted against the momentarily lit sky. It was a man, dressed in a long black cloak, struggling against wind and rain. As he staggered down the rows of gravestones and statues, his hood flew off, revealing a pointed, haggard face, and a head of sodden blonde hair. He kept going, his hand fruitlessly trying to shield his eyes against the storm. Practically bent double against the wind, the figure appeared to reach the grave he had been looking for, where a simple, badly engraved stone stood, half covered in ivy and moss.

The man bent down, and with his bare hands scratched at the rock, drawing blood but seeming not to care. At last the greenery had been cleared enough for the worn inscription to become legible. The man sat back on his heels, and the tears that began to fall from his haunted grey eyes were washed away by the relentless storm almost as soon as they appeared. With a shaking finger, he slowly traced the letters of the name carved into the stone, then pulled a stick of wood from beneath his cloak, and placed it at the foot of the grave. Having nearly completed his purpose at the cemetery, the man stood, and pulled what appeared to be a golden locket from beneath his robes, which he tapped with another wooden stick, all the while murmuring incomprehensibly under his breath. He looked back towards the grave and spoke, before tapping the locket once more, and vanishing in a bright blue light which lit up the stone, and the stick, and the graveyard. Though the stranger's words were lost to the wind, their meaning was clear.

"_I'm sorry. I'll make things right again. I promise."_

And so the wind howled, and the rain poured, and all that remained was earth and storm.


	2. The End

A/N: First of all, thank you for the reveiws and alerts! I am pleasantly suprised and slightly humbled with the response, so thank you all. Just a quick explanation, so as not to confuse you too much- this is _not_ the end of the story, but a kind of secondary prologue to give you a bit of background. Worry ye not, the next chapter _will_ be a proper one, it _will_ be a decent size, and it will hopefully be up before New Year. Hopefully.

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><p>"Ron, go! You can't stop him! Just get Hermione, and get out of here!"<p>

"I'm not- gasp – I'm not leaving you!"

"You've got to! Just- just go and get help. Find the rest of the Order, I don't care, but just get yourselves to safety. I'll be fine."

"Harry-"

"Go!"

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><p>"Malfoy, you need to leave, <em>now<em>. He's coming, you have to-"

"Potter, I am not going anywhere; the bloody monster killed my father, if you think I'm just going to listen to you-"

"I haven't got time for this! Just leave! Now!"

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><p>"Look out!"<p>

"Malfoy, I told you to-"

"Since when have I ever listened to you, Potter? I'll do what I bloody like, thank you very much!"

"But-"

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><p>"Don't leave me. Please, please, don't leave me."<p>

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><p>"DUCK!"<p>

"What're you-"

"They've found us, we need to-"

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><p>"I love you."<p>

"Don't say that; please don't say that, you can't-"

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><p><em>"Avada Kedavra!"<em>


	3. An Unwanted Welcome

A/N: As promised, a proper chapter, and one written and published before New Year! I impress myself with my speed ;)

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><p>The street was dark, and silent. Wooden signs swung in the breeze, and small puddles, the only evidence of the earlier storm, glinted in the light that poured from the windows of a crowded pub. A sudden crack pierced the stillness, and the air was quickly filled with an awful shrieking, as the little village of Hogsmeade sought to warn its captors of the arrival of the three new intruders. The door of the pub was flung open, and several black hooded figures rushed out, brandishing wands and yelling over the already deafening cacophony. Suddenly, at the wave of a wand, the shrieking ceased, and a beefy looking man roared in a grating voice, trying to summon a cloak.<p>

Under said garment, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley began to panic. They had expected some opposition in the village, but nothing like the welcome they had received. Backing away from the searching figures, they managed to get back into a small alley near the Hog's Head pub, when Ron stood on Hermione's foot, panicked, and promptly knocked over a dustbin. The clattering of the bin on the ground made the hooded Death Eaters close in on their position, and though the trio tried to disapparate, the air appeared to have become solid around them. Harry looked around for another route out of the alley, but there were no doors, and other than the way they had come in, they were surrounded by solid brick.

A sudden chill crept into the air, and Harry's breath began to appear in clouds. Hermione grabbed his arm, and, heart sinking, he looked back towards the alley entrance. Two cloaked and sinister dementors were gliding along towards them, turning the puddles to ice, and freezing Harry's mind. As if in a dream, he saw Hermione's wand give off a sliver of silvery mist before she collapsed against the wall, and Ron's silver terrier expire as swiftly as it had appeared. Before the darkness took him, Harry saw a bright blue light, and a great silver beast erupt into the gloom. Then he succumbed to the screaming, and the unfeeling dark.

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><p>Draco Malfoy arrived in Hogsmeade, soaking wet and freezing cold. He was tired, he needed food, and most of all he needed to think of a plan. But when the blue light vanished and his vision cleared, any thoughts of finding a bed in the Hogs Head or sitting down in the Three Broomsticks with a large plate of liver and bacon were dashed from his weary mind. Two dementors were floating down the alley in his direction, and so without thinking, he thrust his wand out in front of him, and thought of England. Well, Wiltshire, specifically the manor in the days when his father was still powerful, and his mother was happy. A great silvery wolf burst from his wand, and the dementors quickly turned tail and left the alley, trying to escape the happy thoughts that pursued them. Draco followed his patronus out into the main street of Hogsmeade, only to be confronted with a round dozen Death Eaters, each one holding a wand, and each one pointing it at him.<p>

"Stop right there, Potter, we've got you n-" A large man spoke with a slightly gleeful tone, which vanished with his next sentence. "Hang on, you ain't Potter."

"O'course he's not Potter, since when has Potter been blonde?" Another, equally large man yelled at his companion, who turned away from their prisoner to yell back.

"I know that! I ain't stupid or nothin'." He turned back to Draco. "Who the bloody hell are you, then?"

Draco stuck his chin up in the air, and spoke with what he hoped sounded like an arrogant tone.

"Draco Malfoy, and you would do better not to go around accusing your own allies of being the enemy!"

There was a momentary pause of complete silence, in which Draco allowed himself a small smirk. However, when the silence broke, it was to roars of laughter from all of the congregated Death Eaters, and the expression quickly turned into a frown.

"Draco Malfoy, ha ha, that's a good'un!" The large Death Eater threw his head back and gave another great bellowing laugh.

"No, really, I am! Look-" Draco swept back his cloak and pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the mark that resided there, and showed them the finger on which the Malfoy signet ring sat. The looks of mirth on the Death Eaters' faces slowly turned to those of confusion.

"But hang on, if you really are Draco Malfoy, and you really do 'ave the Mark, then 'oo set of the Caterwauling Charm?"

"Well he can't have done, Crabbe, only those without the mark can set it off-"

"I KNOW THAT!" The large man, Crabbe, cut the woman off, and she gracefully stepped back from the front of the group with a bow of her head. Crabbe looked back at Draco and addressed his companions.

"Right, so if this here is Draco, an' he's got the Mark, then he can't have set the charm off, and so there must be someone else 'ere!" Looking pleased with his logic, Crabbe turned to the alley and yelled, "POTTER! Better start running, 'cause we're coming to getcha!"

As Crabbe started running towards the alley, the cogs in Draco's brain started turning. If he hadn't set the charm off, then someone else must have done it… after all, those dementors couldn't have been in that alley by accident… and that meant that someone else must have arrived before he did. He glanced at a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet at his feet. _May 12__th_. He had arrived later than he had wanted to… Suddenly, as he thought this, something in his mind clicked. _Potter_.

"Stop!"

Crabbe skidded to a halt outside a boarded up shop front, and glared at Draco. He could feel the eyes of all of the other Death Eaters on him as he hesitantly spoke.

"I… I did set off the charm. Not by apparating," he said when the other large man looked about to correct him, "by… When I arrived, I, er, dropped my… wand, yes, and that must have set it off."

The Death Eaters exchanged glances, and a tall woman stepped out from the crowd and spoke to him.

"Yes, that would indeed have set it off, but why did you not show yourself at once?"

"I, er, tripped over my robes, and… landed in a puddle."

The woman looked him up and down, and, upon seeing the mud and dirt he was caked in, seemed to take this as a worthy excuse, as she nodded once and stepped back into the fray. Crabbe stalked back slowly, looking murderous. He spoke quickly with his large double, and huffed as he glared at Draco.

"Fine. But what was you doing 'ere anyway?"

This time, Draco spoke the truth. Or at least, as much of it as he was willing to reveal.

"I came to inquire about a room at the Hog's Head. I did not realise that my arrival would cause such a disturbance."

"But why'd you need a room in the first place?" Draco remained silent. "Oho. Oho!" Crabbe turned back to the rest of the Death Eaters, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"He's been kicked out! His father finally 'ad enough of him not doin' nothing for the Dark Lord, and bein' a disappointment an' all, and kicked 'im out!" Laughing gleefully, he looked at Draco and pointed at him with a shaking finger.

"You ain't got nothin'! Ha! Well, you can go 'ave your room at the Hog's Head, and you can think of what your master's gonna do to you when he finds out! Ha ha… You know, this was almost worth all the hassle of comin' out 'ere… Draco Malfoy, kicked out of his own 'ouse…"

With that, he and the other Death Eaters traipsed back to the Three Broomsticks, conveniently (for Draco, that is) forgetting to reset the Caterwauling Charm. Draco waited until the last one had vanished through the pub doors, before running back down the alley. He lit his wand, and kept it carefully trained on the ground in front of him, as he gingerly crept along. Suddenly, he heard a groan slightly up ahead of him, and quickened his pace, only to trip over an invisible leg and land face first in a large, muddy puddle.


	4. A Truce, Of Sorts

A/N: Hello again! It has been a while since the last chapter, but as this is the longest yet, I hope you won't be too disappointed. Please reveiw, and a belated 'Happy New Year' to you all! :)

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><p>Harry Potter woke up to find his nose centimetres away from an empty packet of Bertie Bott's Beans. He racked his throbbing brains for an explanation as to why it had come to pass that he had been lying unconscious on some slimy cobbles with a pounding headache, but nothing immediately came to mind. He tried to lift his head, but immediately put it down again with a groan. He jumped slightly at the sound of running footsteps, but it was when he heard two shrieks and a great splash that he pulled the abruptly remembered cloak off his head and drew his wand. The sight that met his eyes upon the removal of the silken garment was enough to make him pause in stowing it away.<p>

Hermione was feebly stirring, which was to be expected, but Ron was clutching at his leg, and looking rather startled. Following his friend's gaze, Harry came upon the sight that had caused him to stop in the first place. A man, soaked to the skin and wearing dirty, tattered black robes, was lying face down in a large, wet, muddy puddle. As Harry watched, the man slowly raised himself from the ground, spitting out liberal amounts of mud, and trying to clear the gunk from his eyes with blood-stained hands. He staggered towards them, glaring admirably and, covered in brown muck as he was, looking rather comical. Harry struggled valiantly, but when the man tripped over the end of his own robe and fell backwards into the same puddle, he could hold it in no longer. His snort was all it took to set Ron off, and the pair of them were soon rolling around on the floor, laughing their heads off.

"Shut up the pair of you, or we'll all be found! Honestly, anyone would think you were two years old, the way you're carrying on. Forgive me if I can't see anything funny." Hermione's ever bossy voice sounded above the laughter, and Harry managed to control his chuckles enough to point towards the source of their hilarity, before another great roar from Ron made any further explanation impossible. Hermione looked at the man, who had given up on trying to get up and was now glaring at the pair of fools with his chin in his hands, and couldn't stop a small smile of mirth from reaching her face.

The mud-covered man looked up at her with a slightly exasperated look in his eyes, and shook his head wearily, before conjuring a stream of water with which to wash off the mud. Hermione, meanwhile, pulled a heavy tome from her bag, and whacked first Harry, then Ron, over the head with it. The laughter immediately ceased, and any protesting remarks were silenced by a rather menacing look. Harry instead adopted the expression one might wear at a funeral, whilst Ron simply folded his arms and looked sulkily at the ground. Feeling satisfied, Hermione gave a bright smile, and with a wave of her wand returned all of the rubbish to the newly righted dustbin. She then rooted around in her bag for a moment, and pulled out a large bar of muggle chocolate, which she opened and separated, chucking some to both Harry and Ron, who ate it hurriedly and without comment. But when she turned to courteously offer some to the muddy stranger, she raised her eyebrows.

The man, whose face and hair were still rather brown, had stripped to his sodden boxers, and was apparently trying to rinse out his robes under a stream of water from his wand, which was gripped between his teeth. Sensing her eyes upon him, he gave Hermione a look that clearly said 'what?', to which she responded with a gesture meaning 'carry on', before turning away again with a shake of her head. She was clearly the only one of her friends to do so, however, as Ron was looking at the man as though he were a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and Harry… well, Harry was staring at him with an awe-struck expression, as though he was the reincarnation of Dumbledore. _Although_, Hermione thought, _I doubt he'd look at Dumbledore quite like that_. Whilst she was staring at Harry, who in turn was staring at the half-naked man, Ron seemed to come to his senses at last.

"Who," he began, in a thoroughly accusatory tone, "the bloody hell are you?"

The man stopped washing his robes, pulled the wand from his mouth (at which point Harry blinked, shook his head, and appeared to awaken from whatever daze he had been in), and turned to face the red-head with his hands upon his hips and an indignant look in his eyes.

"Who am I?" he spoke in a familiar voice, "Who am I? Well, Weasley, as you obviously don't possess the brains to work it out alone, I shall give you a small clue." With that, he reached up with his arm, and pointed his wand directly towards the top of his head. The water that immediately began to pour from the tip slowly washed away the mud, revealing platinum-blonde hair, raised eyebrows, a pointed chin, angular cheekbones, and a huge smirk.

Ron looked murderous, and drew his wand with a great cry of "YOU!" Hermione paled, and Harry looked as though Christmas had been cancelled. Malfoy, however, just looked smug as he swiftly disarmed Ron and glanced over the other members of the trio. Hermione he gave a begrudging nod, but she thought she saw something shift behind his eyes when he looked at Harry. Any emotion was gone a moment later, however, as with a flick of his wand Malfoy knocked down and tied up Ron, who had decided that if he couldn't curse the Slytherin, he'd try and break his nose instead.

"Nothing personal, Weasley," said Malfoy, "but- well, actually, it _is_ personal; I don't like you."

"Ha!" Ron spat out a mouthful of blood before continuing. "You _hate_ Harry, and you don't like Hermione because she's muggle-born, but I'm the only one tied up!"

"Yes, because you're the only one who tried to attack me. And, because it's your fault I got covered in mud." At Ron's blank look, Malfoy decided a little elaboration was in order. "I tripped over your leg when I landed in the puddle."

"Yeah, well, you should have looked where you were going then!"

"I couldn't very well see where your leg was, you were under that invisibility cloak, and-"

"Oh, _do_ be quiet! _Both _of you!" Both men turned to look at Hermione as though she had grown a second head. "Ron, you're behaving like a child, and if Malfoy hadn't already tied you up I'd have a good mind to do it myself! And as for you Malfoy, unless you tell me right now what you're doing here, so help me I will curse you into the middle of next week!"

Ron gave her one final glare before turning to glower at the ground with a huff. Malfoy grimaced and paced several times along the width of the alley before answering.

"Okay, I… Look, I- I'm here to help you."

When he had finished speaking he looked expectantly at Hermione, who was standing practically dumbstruck. Even Ron stopped sulking to look incredulous, and Harry continued to look rather bemused by the entire situation. Finally Hermione felt able to speak.

"And w-why would you want to help _us_?" A threat to turn them over, a mission to kill or capture them, she had been expecting that. But _help_? And more importantly, to be offering it to them, his worst enemies? That, she had not been ready for.

Malfoy paced some more, glancing anxiously at both Ron and Harry (but mostly Harry, it seemed to Hermione). Finally, after appearing to struggle with himself, he looked her directly in the eye, and spoke in barely more than a whisper.

"I can't tell you that. Not yet. I'm sorry."

The emotion in his voice, the true sincerity of his words, flowed through to Hermione's mind, and the look in his eyes, the way his indifferent mask had shifted as he looked at Harry, made her believe him. She nodded once, and he seemed to recognise the gesture for the mark of acceptance it was. The nod was one he returned, and Hermione smiled slightly.

"Right, now that that's sorted, we really do need to work out what we're going to do now. I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think we're going to be able to get into the castle tonight. So, I think we should-"

"Hang on a minute!" Ron spoke up from his seat on the ground. "You're going to believe him, just like that? Hermione, this is Malfoy we're talking about! Think what he's done!"

"Ronald, I know exactly what he's done in the past, but that's the point- it was in the past. What happens now is what's important, and if Malfoy wants to help us, I think we ought to give him a chance. _I_ believe him, Ron, and I- well, I don't completely trust him, but until he does anything too terrible, I'm willing to give it a go. If you can't get over some childish animosity for the sake of winning a war, then that's your problem." Then she turned to Harry, who was looking slightly pale. "Harry, are you willing to work with, or at least tolerate, Malfoy?" She said it with such menace, that Harry was momentarily stunned, but felt condemned to appease her.

"I er… Well, that is to say… Um… Okay?" He felt Hermione's gaze boring into him, seemingly trying to search for something he didn't think was there, before she gave a satisfied smile.

"Thank you, Harry. I'm glad to see that _some_ of us can behave like mature adults." With this she sent another glare at Ron, and then seamlessly returned to her usual business-like manner. "So that we don't all murder each other in our beds, I propose a truce. Of sorts," she added at Ron's reproachful look. "I say that we all agree not to attack each other, not to give each other away to You-Know-Who, and to be civil to each other _at all times_. Agreed?"

Harry murmured something in assent, and Draco gave a crisp but approving nod. At Hermione's look, Ron begrudgingly muttered his agreement.

"Excellent! Now, we can't stay in this alley all night, and we have no way of getting into the school anyway, so we should either find somewhere to stay, in the mountains or something, or go somewhere where we can put the tent up and come back in the morning."

"We can get rooms at the Hog's Head." Hermione looked doubtful, so Malfoy explained. "Aberforth isn't too fond of Death Eaters, but he tolerates them. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, though, so he won't mind letting you three stay there. I was heading there myself, before I- ah- took a small detour into that puddle."

"Well," said Hermione, "if you think that'll be alright, then I don't see why we shouldn't. The three of us had better go under the cloak, but you should be alright, Malfoy. Besides, it would look slightly odd if the door to the Hog's Head opened and no-one was around. Come on."

Harry pulled out the invisibility cloak, and Hermione undid Ron's ropes so that he could get under it with them. Then Malfoy shoved his still dripping robes over his head, and the four unlikely allies made their way out of the alley, none of them particularly sorry to be leaving.


	5. An Interesting Evening

**A/N: Hello! No, I'm not dead, but in terms of updates I may as well have been. Ah well.**

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><p>Draco ran his fingers through his still dripping hair and wished to Merlin he had learned the charm to dry his robes. It wasn't the damp that bothered him; it was a warm night with little wind. It was more the fact that Draco Malfoy, pure-blooded prince of Slytherin, was waddling down Hogsmeade high street soaked to the skin, what little of his dignity that remained after the run in with those Death Eaters taken by an infernal puddle. Still, at least at that time of night there weren't too many people around to see it.<p>

He walked up to the front door and hesitated only briefly before knocking three times on the gnarled wood. A light flickered on behind the dust clogged windows, and the door opened to reveal a tall, elderly gentleman with a thick beard, dressed in nothing but a pair of scruffy pyjamas and a stained woollen dressing gown. The man crossed his muscular arms and glared down at the young Malfoy, who had the strange feeling that the man's piercing blue eyes could see right through him.

"What," the man growled, "in God's name do you want at this time of night?"

"Um…" Despite everything, Draco actually felt a tad intimidated by the man, who, with the lamp light shining around his substantial bulk, looked rather like an avenging angel, albeit a rather scruffy one. "I came to, er, inquire about a room. I can understand if you've no rooms currently empty, but, um… My name's Draco Mal-"

"Oh, I know who you are, boy. Albus told me a fair bit about you; Lucius Malfoy's kid, thinking himself better than everyone just 'cus he's got money and his blood's pure. Well, let me tell you: I don't care who your dad is. I don't give a damn how many galleons you've got squirreled away, or what your ancestors might have done. I'll give you your room, kid, not because I like you, but because I know when to shut up and keep my head down. Now get in here, and try not to drip over everything."

Draco made his way over the threshold, the sound of stumbling feet in the passageway behind him telling him that the Trio had managed to enter the building before the oaf of a barman slammed the door behind him. The man beckoned, and Draco followed him behind the deserted bar and up a set of rickety stairs, trying not to wince too much when the sawdust covering the floor stuck to the bottoms of his boots and the hem of his still sodden robe. They continued to climb, eventually coming to stop outside a battered oak door at the very top of the building. The barman unlocked it, and presented the key to Draco, with the promise that he'd be back in the morning for his money. With that, he stomped back downstairs, and Draco heard the muffled crash of a slamming door several floors below. He pulled out his wand, lit it, and tentatively pushed open the door.

He hadn't been expecting much, if the décor downstairs had been anything to go by, but Draco thought that this was really taking the piss. The room was no bigger than his bathroom at ho- at the manor, and furnished only with a small table and chair, both of which looking ready to collapse, and a rusty metal framed bed with a horribly lumpy mattress and skimpy woollen blanket. Draco crossed to a slightly ajar door to one side of the room, and found that the bathroom beyond was about the size of a large cupboard, and had probably not seen a cleaning charm in at least fifty years. He went back into the main room to see the newly visible Granger stowing the cloak away and both Potter and Weasley looking slightly disgusted.

"Really, Weasley, there's no need to look so repulsed. I imagine that this seems like a palace to you after that hovel you call a home." No need for him to add that this was the best accommodation he'd had in months… or would have. This time travel business was tricky to get your head around…

"Oi!" Weasley turned and started towards him, fist raised, but Granger was quicker.

"Ronald! Stop that this instant!"

"But Hermione, did you hear-"

"I heard exactly what he said! Stupidly, though, I thought that you'd actually manage to be the bigger man for once and not rise to his taunts! Evidently, I was wrong. And as for you-" She turned to Draco with fire in her eyes. "Don't pick on Ron just because his family isn't particularly well off. I thought when you offered to help us that you'd finally gotten over your stupid prejudices and seen sense, though apparently I was wrong about that as well. Apologise. Both of you."

"But he started it!"

"I don't particularly care, Ron. It makes no difference to me who's in the wrong here. But if we're going to beat You-Know-Who, we need to work together! What was the point of calling a truce when the two of you are just going to break it again five minutes later?"

Draco could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes as she said this, and was about to do something, but Potter beat him to it. He took her shoulders and held her, albeit slightly awkwardly, as she sobbed into his shoulder. Draco looked away as Weasley turned to him, a sheepish look on his face.

"Look, Malfoy… I still think you're a git and all, but Hermione's right… if we're going to win this we need to work as a team, and we can't do that if me and you keep fighting all the time. Just…" He seemed to give up on words then, and instead held out his hand. Draco looked at it for a moment as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, then spoke.

"You know, Weasley, I think that's probably one of the smartest things you've said in your entire life." He grinned slightly, and reached out to briefly shake the offered hand. Weasley gave a an uncomfortable smile, which was quickly masked by a mass of bushy brown hair as Granger launched herself upon him, her strangled statements of pride and admiration making Weasley's ears turn red.

"So…"

Potter stood in the middle of the room looking about as awkward as Draco felt. Their eyes met, and the onslaught of painful memories brought by those bright green irises forced Draco to look away quickly, for fear of what he might otherwise do.

Weasley and Granger quickly broke apart at Potter's less than witty statement, both of them looking rather red. Granger seemed slightly flustered as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and tried to regain her usual business-like manner.

"Right, okay… Right, well, we need to get into the castle, but I don't think we'll be able to do that tonight, so…"

"Hermione, it has to be tonight! He knows what we're doing now; we haven't got any time left to waste!" Potter spoke up properly for the first time, and looked at Granger as though she'd just revealed that she was sleeping with Crookshanks.

"Harry, I know, I know there's no time, but be reasonable here! We've no way of getting into Hogwarts; I'll bet you Snape's got guards on all the secret passageways, and even if we did, by some miracle, manage to get in, we don't even know what we're looking for!"

Silence followed her proclamation.

"But…" Potter still looked desperate, but Draco could see his resolve beginning to crumble.

"If I may?"

The three Gryffindors turned to look at him, and he sauntered across to the bed, wincing when he threw himself upon it.

"Granger's right, there's no way you're going to get inside Hogwarts tonight. If we're going to get in, we'll need a real plan of how to do so and there's no time tonight. I suggest that we all try to get some sleep and work out our next steps in the morning."

Weasley nodded in agreement, but Potter frowned.

"Malfoy, you don't understand. What we're doing… it can't wait."

Draco sighed and pulled a piece of straw from the mattress.

"Potter, there is nothing we can do. If you want to get into Hogwarts tonight and get yourself killed, then be my guest. I won't stop you." Now that was a lie if ever there was one. "You say I don't understand. I do. More than you can know." Draco stopped fiddling with the straw and, against his better judgment, looked right into the eyes of the obstinate Gryffindor. "But you have to listen to reason. There's no point risking all our lives when we don't even know what we're doing. I can help you, but I can't be your guardian angel." Not always.

Potter broke eye contact and stalked over to the room's pitiful excuse for a window. He glanced out of it for a long moment, and Draco got the sense that he was staring straight past the grim horizon. Potter turned, his face hidden in shadow, and nodded, before continuing to gaze out at the stars.

The nod may not have been much, but it was all Granger needed to spring into action.

"Well, I'm certainly glad we got that sorted out. I've got sleeping bags here for everyone; Draco, I don't know if you want the bed, or…?"

"Oh, no, it's fine, you take it." Draco leapt up and beat down her protestations, privately thinking that she was welcome to the bloody thing.

"Alright, if you're sure… Ron, if you want to set up camp, I'll cast a few protection spells. Nothing too fancy, just enough to stop anyone from murdering us in our beds." Draco raised an eyebrow at the cheerful way she said this. "Malfoy, if you want to start trying to light a fire…" She glanced towards the frankly unsafe looking fireplace, then seemed to think better of the idea and instead conjured a ball of bright blue flames inside a glass jar, which she placed in the grate.

Draco went over to Ron, who had taken the sleeping bags thrust at him by Granger, and was now trying to sort them out. After a quick look at the colours on offer, the unlikely allies made a scramble for the least… flamboyant. Draco triumphantly seized the navy blue from the Gryffindor's grasp, leaving Ron less than happy with the maroon. Granger finished her incantations and heaved the floral patterned bag over to the bed, and when Harry turned away from the window and saw what he had been left with, he promptly whacked Weasley over the head with an ancient Daily Prophet from the wobbly table.

On reflection, Draco decided as snuggled in the warmth of his sleeping bag, watching Potter sulk in his own frilly pink one, this had certainly been one of his more interesting evenings.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there you go, another chapter (at long last). I'll try and be a bit more prompt at updating, but I do have a lot of exams coming up in the not too distant future, and so naturally all of that will have to take precendence over this. Don't think I've abandoned you, though, because I haven't. Until next time :)**


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